About the Poet:
Xavier Oquendo Troncoso studied journalism at the Central University of Ecuador. He works with the Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana to organize and participate in readings and presentations throughout Ecuador and South America. Originally from Ambato, Ecuador, he currently lives in Quito, Ecuador.
* below the translated versions, you will find the original poems
* the name of the translator is given below the translated version
The I Of The Cold
All of the man I carry
is wrapped in this gray morning
that fails to convince the skin.
There is only fog outside
and foam in the sky.
Today the man I carry
doesn’t want to break me
nor push me to his abyss.
(Translated by Ana Blum)
El Yo Del Frío
Todo el hombre que llevo
se halla enlatado en esta mañana gris
que no convence a la piel.
Afuera solo hay niebla
y espuma en el cielo.
Hoy el hombre que llevo
no quiere deshacerme
ni empujarme a su vacío.
Counting The Facts
We all went.
Behind us we heard the explosive sounds of the party,
the red glow of the bars,
the blue drinks that used to love us,
and the bender’s uneven gait.
Then, the dawn, with the smell of honey.
The friends asleep, huddled
like a well of birdsong,
like an apple tree full of fruit.
We were together, only the wind was alone.
The others, the other us,
one in the solitude of the new day.
We all suffered and that was happiness.
(Translated by Ana Blum, Poet & Writer)
Recuento De Los Hechos
Todos nos fuimos.
Atrás se escucha el torpedo de la fiesta,
la corona roja de los bares,
el aguardiente azul que nos amaba
y la marcha desigual de la jarana.
Después, la madrugada con olor a miel.
Los amigos dormidos, amontonados
como un pozo de trinos,
como un manzano cargado.
Éramos todos, solo el viento era solo.
Los demás, los otros nosotros,
éramos uno en la soledad del nuevo día.
Nos dolíamos juntos y eso era la felicidad.